


The Difference Between Affectation and Affection

by L_M_Biggs



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/F, Phasma is a big frightening awkward, Phasma learning how to be a person, Rey and Phasma bonding over being scavengers in previous lives, Rey is a small sweet angel, slices of life on the Resistance base
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-02 23:31:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13328736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L_M_Biggs/pseuds/L_M_Biggs
Summary: There has to be a way to show Rey that she cares. That she cherishes the girl.





	The Difference Between Affectation and Affection

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KamikazeSoundSociety](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KamikazeSoundSociety/gifts).



“Here,” Phasma sighed as she grabbed Rey by her mussed up buns, the girl letting out a huff as she allowed herself to be guided down to the bench beside Phasma. She grumbled and turned on her own bench and tugged the three ties free from Rey’s long hair, combing her fingers through the mussed strands into some semblance of neatness. The others seated at the table watched in quiet fascination as Phasma divided up Rey’s hair into seven groupings, her fingers dexterously weaving them into a tight braid that ended right at the base of the girl’s skull. 

Finn watched with dark, observant eyes as Phasma worked the tie at the end of the braid, her fingers running over her work, possibly with the excuse of checking it before she let Rey go. Rey had gone very still; the colour was rising in her cheeks, and Finn could see her long, slender fingers knotting in her lap.

“There, that’s it.” Phasma gave Rey’s skull a nudge, the girl giving a soft smile as she stood and reached back to feel the braids. “That way it won’t snag on anything.”

Finn didn’t mention it the next morning when Rey showed up with the braid. Or the next day. It soon became apparent that she would be keeping the braided style, and no one could honestly blame her. It was an efficient style, and the way that Phasma had worked the braid was complicated, something that did not come undone easily. 

Soon Rey began showing up with ribbons worked through the braid, a clean pop of white against the dark brown of her hair and dusky tan of her skin, or a strip of orange from an old flight suit woven into the strands. 

Finn smiled as he saw Rey currently sporting a trifecta of white, orange, and green ribbons woven into her hair, the long ends of the ribbons brushing against her collars, tied in painstakingly precise bows at the nape of her neck

“You’re really good at those braids,” he mused as he walked alongside Rey through the hallways towards the Fighter storage units. Rey was disassembling an old Fighter, figuring out which parts could be repaired and distributing said parts to other Fighters. Currently she had managed to get into the cockpit, with the wings and most of the external engines already torn out of the old husk. 

“Oh, Phasma does them for me,” Rey smiled as she looked at her friend. “She does them every morning before we go to breakfast. They’re too complicated for me to do on my own.”

Finn’s eyebrows shot up at that, his eyes blinking for a moment as he stared at the braid. “Phasma does those for you?”

“Yeah.” Rey gave him a sharp look. “She’s really good at it. And you’re not going to make fun of her for it.”

Finn laughed and shook his head, holding up his hands in surrender. “Rey, I might not be her subordinate anymore, but I still live with a healthy fear that she can snap me in half over her knee, so I promise she won’t hear from me.”

\--

“You fight like a scavenger,” Phasma barked as she circled Rey, the girl panting while Phasma had barely broken a sweat in their sparring. They had been fighting for nearly an hour now and Rey had thrown everything that she could at the other woman, using all of her energy to take down the ex-Stormtrooper. “You fight with ferocity, but you tire easily.”

Phasma blocked another blow from Rey, sending her hurtling towards the floor, only to grasp the girl’s wrist and pull her close. Rey gasped as she was held, hip to hip, back to chest, to Phasma’s bulk, her arm twisted behind her back. Her free hand instinctively reached up to grasp at Phasma’s own neck, scrabbling against the shorn hair at the back of her skull, trying to get something to pull on, to get Phasma to release her.

Rey gasped as her ankles were kicked apart and Phasma twisted her arm harder, the woman jerking her close. 

They struggled like that for a moment, Phasma’s grip on Rey’s arm tightening every time the girl squirmed against her. She could feel the way Rey’s hips bucked against her own, the way she ground back against the older woman’s hips, trying to unbalance Phasma’s greater bulk. 

It was a moment of weakness, stolen where anyone could see, for Phasma to lean in and press her nose to Rey’s soft hair, coming undone from her buns. She took a breath of the scent of the girl, groaning softly against her ear. The shiver that escaped Rey was a familiar one, one that made Phasma’s free hand slide over to the girl’s hip to grasp at her waist, long fingers reaching across to press low in her stomach. With their bodies rocking together, a comforting rhythm that burned low in their bellies, Phasma couldn’t help but press her mouth to the girl’s jaw and press a slow kiss there.

Rey tilted her head back, exposing her throat, feeling Phasma’s solid frame supporting her, and went carefully limp. She thrilled as Phasma adjusted her grip only slightly to hold her, easily cradling her frame close and kissing down the column of her neck. It felt vulnerable. No one on Jakku would have been allowed so close, and Rey doubted that Phasma would have been allowed near the throat of anyone on Parnassos, from what the woman had told her. 

“I can teach you.” Phasma said, her body pressing close to Rey’s. “How to fight. I can train you.”

Rey could do nothing but nod, her legs trembling as she tried to hold herself up, tried to regain feeling in her knees. 

They stood silently for a few moments, Rey catching her breath, feeling Phasma’s own chest heaving with the exertion of their battle. After a few moments they parted and Phasma cleared her throat, stepping away. 

“‘Freshers.” She grunted as she looked at the young girl. Rey nodded, moving to the freshers connected to the training rooms. 

It wasn’t that Rey and Phasma were unfamiliar with one another’s bodies. They shared quarters and had seen one another in various states of undress in the training room freshers. But this time there was an edge to the air between them as they stepped into a shared stall. 

From two cultures that valued water as a resource, it was second nature to share the water of the fresher, pressed close under the stream or stepping aside to let one bathe more fully before the other traded off. Standing some feet away Phasma stared at Rey’s naked form, at the lean, wiry muscle of her, the way she stretched beneath the hot stream of water with a sigh of relief. In their quarters Rey had a soap that smelled like flowers and a fresh, crisp green plant that Finn had told them could heal minor cuts and burns. But here, in the standard freshers, Rey simply smelled like soap. 

Phasma pressed close against her back, breathing against the girl’s neck, her nose pressed to the delicate skin. Rey shivered, tilting her head slightly as she felt Phasma’s palms slide over her hips, up the soft skin of her belly. She felt her breath hitch as Phasma’s broad palms pressed along her ribcage, hesitating to move further up. Rey squirmed slightly, feeling the hard muscle of Phasma’s thighs against her own, the way her hard stomach pressed to Rey’s back, how the woman had to hunch to be able to reach Rey’s throat. 

The sound of the door opening instantly made Phasma pull back, leaning against the wall with her eyes still fixed on Rey, listening to the group of pilots who had just come back from their five mile run chattering as they went about selecting fresher’s of their own and bathing. As the pilots continued to chatter, Phasma couldn’t help but keep letting her gaze dart to Rey, watching the smaller woman slowly clean herself and feeling as if every second was meant as some form of torture.

“Hey, Phasma, there’s an empty shower over there still!” Jessika Pava called out. “If you wanna get away from Rey hogging all the water.”

Phasma glared at the other woman and grumbled lowly. “I will stay here.”

\--

“Hey, she’s not that scary,” one of the Fighter pilots mumbled to Poe, who glanced over a few tables away where Phasma was seated alone, the woman hunched over her tray like she fully expected it to grow legs and try to escape her grip.

“She looks really scary to me, Greene.” Poe couldn’t help but be reminded of a wampa devouring it’s meal, guarding it viciously. 

“Nah, watch this.”

Greene stood, wiping his hands on his flight suit, and walked over to Phasma, the woman shovelling forkfuls of greenery into her mouth, her eyes fixed on her food. 

“Hey, Phasma!” Greene smiled as he sat down next to the woman, casually reaching over to pluck a slice of bread from the stack on her tray.

The entire mess hall fell into shocked silence at the sound of Greene frantically shouting surrender as he was bent over the table, his arm twisted behind his back and Phasma glaring down at him, hard and cold and towering above his prone form. 

“I give, I give, I give,” Greene gritted out as he slammed his free hand onto the table. Phasma plucked the slice of bread he had stolen from her tray from the hand she was holding captive, releasing Greene and sitting back down silently.

Poe raised a brow at Greene as the man came slinking back, nursing his bruised, possibly sprained, arm. “Not so scary, huh? You’re lucky she didn’t keep the arm.”

Rey entered the mess hall, piling her own tray high with food. She was soaked in sweat, obviously having been worked over by Master Skywalker, and when she saw Poe she gave him a jaunty wave, but sat instead beside Phasma. 

“Oh god.” Poe murmured, watching Rey chatting with Phasma, the larger woman taking a long drink of milk as she watched the young Jedi. Phasma’s arms were still curled around her tray protectively, her shoulders hunched as she ate, and as Rey spoke the woman began to relax marginally, straightening slightly.

Poe was even more startled when Phasma offered Rey two slices of bread from her tray, watching Rey give a beaming smile as she continued to eat, carefully placing the slices on the tray and piling food on top of them before she bit into the half-formed sandwich. Phasma grinned around a mouthful of food and Rey returned the smile, giving Phasma’s elbow a bump with her own before the two went back to their meals, continuing to sit in comfortable silence beside one another.

\--

“Affection.”

“Affectation.”

“No, that’s a different word entirely,” Rey corrected, shifting backwards slightly until her back was pressed flush with Phasma’s. “Affectation is a copy. An imitation of behaviour or something like that. Affection is behaviour that you show the people you love. A gentleness or sweetness.”

“Sweet is a word to describe food,” Phasma frowned as she looked down at Rey, her arms already wrapped around the girl. “You told me that.”

“Yes, but sometimes it can be used to describe a person or an action.”

“Like you,” The woman spoke with a firm conviction that brooked no room for argument. Rey couldn’t help but smile up at her. 

“You’re sweet too.”

Phasma scoffed at that, but knew better than to argue. 

“How else do you speak affections?” She asked, leaning back on the bed until Rey was draped over her torso, the girl rolling onto her stomach, pressing her cheek to Phasma’s collarbone. 

“You call them things called pet names. A lot of them are animals or food, for some reason.” Rey smiled up at Phasma. “Some people call their lovers just “pet” or “darling” or “sweetheart” or “dearest”.”

“Darling,” Phasma murmured, trying it out, over and over again. “Darling, darling, darling.” After a long moment the woman whispered. “What else?”

“You say “I love you” a lot,” Rey looked up at Phasma, taking in the way the woman’s eyes searched her face. “But only if you mean it.”

Phasma rolled her tongue over her teeth before she whispered, “I love you.” 

She stumbled slightly over the word “love” but she tried again, each time sounding more determined. More convicted.

Rey was about to turn away when Phasma’s broad palm cupped the girl’s jaw, holding her face close. “I love you,” she whispered against the girl’s soft lips before she stole a long, slow kiss. 

Rey felt her breath hitch at the words and the touch, her fingers pressing to Phasma’s cheek as she whispered against her mouth, “I love you too, Phasma.”


End file.
